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Over in Deutschland, the suits in charge of BMW and Porsche knew a golden opportunity when they saw one, and they created the ideal vehicles for the times.

Last week, we gave you the opportunity to shackle yourself to a coachbuilt luxo abomination for eternity. Wrenching feverishly on a Zimmer Golden Spirit or a Stutz Blackhawk would be a worthy use of your every waking second for the rest of your life, but beneath all of those heraldic crests and expanses of chrome beat pure Detroit hearts. Where's the hell in a dime-a-dozen Ford 302 or Pontiac 455 engine? ask the Hell Garage Demons, and they've got a point.

What you really need, as the pyrophoric cast-cesium gates to the Hell Garage creak open in a billowing cloud of brimstone fumes, is a ludicrously complex meticulously engineered and flaky finely crafted German luxury performance machine from the decade that made consumption conspicuous: the 1980s.

Yes, as junk-bond kings and crooked S&L scamsters raked all the chips off the table, mid-level cocaine dealers and San Fernando Valley adult-film producers had to step up their games to keep up with the times.

Over in Deutschland, the suits in charge of BMW and Porsche knew a golden opportunity when they saw one, and they created the ideal vehicles for the times. Such history!

The good news for you is that depreciation has laid a heavy hand upon many of these Teutonic statuswagens, and you can find heartbreaking hoopties fully restorable examples for the kind of money that Ivan Boesky would have tipped his podiatrist back in the day.

The idea in Stuttgart was that the 928 would replace the 911. That didn't happen for the same reason that Ford is doomed to build Mustangs for eternity.

The Porsche 928 was an overwrought, hypercomplex pig awe-inspiring pinnacle of engineering, and only the most elite automotive aficionados owned one.

The idea in Stuttgart was that the 928 would replace the 911. That didn't happen for the same reason that Ford is doomed to build Mustangs for eternity. In 1980, a 928 would have cost you $37,930 (about 105 grand in 2012 dollars), and you got a car that could barely keep up with a V6 Toyota Camry today blew away just about every motor vehicle on the road. You shouldn't be able to find any 928 for PCH money, but some people just don't understand the value of the 928.

The Hell Garage Demons start giggling uncontrollably when they see a 928, because they know that certain components of the 928 are absolutely impossible a bit challenging to work on.

For example, there's a huge electrical panel in the 928's passenger-side footwell, with about four square feet of unlabeled breakers, relays, fuses, polonium fission initiators, and the like . . . which would be bad enough. But if you look behind this panel you'll find that all of the wires are gray. That's right, a wiring-harness order of a magnitude more complex that the one behind the instrument panel of an F-111, and the sadists craftsmen at Porsche made every wire the same color!

This particular 928 has some issues by the seller's own admission. Some of his statements would be considered red flags by pessimists. For example: "Needs fuel system and electrical system gone through," and "Last driven 6-7 years ago." But keep in mind that you're dealing with a "Solid car. Everything is there. Lots of potential!" Just start tracing those hundreds of identical gray wires . . . and in 2046 soon enough you'll be driving your own vintage Porsche.

The body and the interior seem fairly solid, and it's an Arizona car, so rust isn't likely to be much of a problem.

We all love the 928, of course, but the back seat was a bit cramped and it lacked a certain luxurious panache that the Hell Garage Demons believe you require. You still need something German from the 1980s, with lots of power and a quadruple helping of over-the-top luxury, but what?

Your only choice, really, is the super-luxury version of the BMW E24 6-series, also known as the L6. In 1987, a new L6 came with a price tag of $49,500 (about 100 grand in 2012 money), which really cut into buyers' budgets for Eastern European prostitutes and Bahamian tax shelters. There was a 182-hp, 3.4-liter Big Six under that long 6-series hood, a nappa leather interior, and every excessively complex electronic gizmo the mid-1980s had to offer. Sure, some of that gear will fail after the passage of a couple of decades, but you should run away screaming shouldn't trouble yourself over that.

Instead, imagine the glory of daily-driving a genuine L6! They're not easy to find in any condition, but we've done the legwork for you and produced this 1987 BMW L6 in Arizona (go here if the listing disappears) for an asking price of $2,800.

Nervous hand-wringing types might be put off by the blaring alarms and waving red flags subtle warning signs that this car has some electrical-system issues, but the Hell Garage Demons suggest that you pay no mind to statements such as "When radio modified the electronics ?? got screwed up. I have original radio, but no idea how to put wires back. I am certain some parts in dash are broken or missing." The body and the interior seem fairly solid, and it's an Arizona car, so rust isn't likely to be much of a problem.

All you'll need to do is spend years puzzling out the electrical glitches test a few circuits and buy a few replacement parts, and this fine German luxury coupe will be just as good as the day it left the showroom floor.